


Reaver's Rear Passage

by Pastellorama



Category: Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Anal, Assisted Suicide, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Fingering, Frottage, Gay Sex, M/M, Oral, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, here have some feels, in some ways related to my other fic, suicide plot, the road to romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 07:43:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17361851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastellorama/pseuds/Pastellorama
Summary: Reaver is not exactly known for being prudish or chaste in any way, but there are some things that are simply off limits. However, a dethroned Logan may no longer have the presence of mind to care about these boundaries any longer.





	Reaver's Rear Passage

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I'm just shocked no one used this title yet.

Logan was being especially rough today, fingers sharply digging into Reaver's hips in a way that pinched and bruised. His teeth were also sharp, as was so much more about him. His eyes, his cheeks, his _hearing_... of course he didn't miss a single snide remark made by Reaver. He never did. Whether he chose to acknowledge them was another story. So far, today, it seemed he had no interest in engaging Reaver in any sort of conversation.

He'd summoned Reaver to the palace, though it was different now. Logan was no longer King. He had no authority anymore, and he was lucky he hadn't found himself facing the barrels of a firing squad yet. Reaver was unsurprised by the compassion of the new King—a foolish child still, full of hope and goodwill and other little niceties that made Reaver's tongue sour in his mouth. Naturally, he'd never gotten anywhere by being _kind_....

Reaver couldn't help but jolt when Logan's teeth bit into the sensitive and thin flesh covering his collarbone, latching on and pinching the skin together while pulling it uncomfortably far from where it ought to have been. He hissed a long inhale through his nose and shuddered through an exhale when Logan did release him, his tongue massaging into the bruised area to rub the pain away. The sting of the bite faded to a dull and pleasurable throb, something Reaver could have focused on happily if Logan hadn't immediately turned and bit him again. Each bite was a shock to Reaver—it wasn't as though he were unaccustomed to pain. It was just the idea that this pain had a different sort of end to it. It wasn't the burn of a blade, or the hollow and wet pounding of a bullet wound... this pain was small and terribly safe yet still so very threatening.

Logan's hands were pushing aside and peeling off clothing, hastily undressing himself to catch up at least to where he already had Reaver. Somewhere in their travels across Logan's chambers, Reaver had lost his coat and vest and a good deal of buttons. He would simply have to send a bill to the palace for that later. Reaver didn't bother to assist Logan in undressing. Logan knew better—Reaver had no interest in doing any work himself. If Logan wanted a good time, it was up to him to create it himself. Reaver happily could've and would've told him to fuck off if Logan even dared complain about his selfish and lazy behavior.

Of course he would've. Reaver could easily have had anyone do the same to him with no expectation his part. He could've gotten a good time from any whore or noble person he pleased and never had to lift a finger. What a notion that he could have it just so with the former King of Albion. 

His back was to the wall now, Logan's breath hot on his skin. It almost burned, especially when he always seemed to be so cold—immortality was not without its downfalls, and every offering to the Shadow Court seemed to pull a little more warmth from him each year. It hardly bothered him, though his clothing tastes had begun to shift towards the thick furs and leathers that were almost too garish for most. His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth as Logan's fingers, also hot and sharp like little pokers, took too many liberties in toying with his exposed chest and tracing the hair that trailed down his stomach. It was a bad habit of impatience, but far be it from anyone to dare call him out on it—the sound was like the snapping of fingers, and it was enough to urge Logan to be a little more timely about his needs.

Leading Reaver towards the bed, Reaver noted how there was hardly any change to the former King's chambers since he had been ousted from the throne. Yet another example of the stupid generosity given by his youthful brother. Were it Reaver who had dethroned his own brother, he would've seen that his sibling found a nice new home beneath the palace where it was, preferably, damp and unpleasant. If he'd let them live, that is. Doubtful.

Ah well. It worked to his favor that it was a soft down mattress he was being pressed into, and not the stone floor of a dungeon. Him? On the rotten floor of some dank dungeon? The thought was enough to make him laugh audibly, a sound that made Logan give pause and break from the near ritualistic movement of his actions. His eyes met with Reaver's, curious but nowhere near interested enough to pursue any line of questioning. His head dipped low again, mouth against throat and hands moving downward to remove what fabric remained. The warmth of Logan's hand encompassing him, fingers calloused from years of swordplay, made Reaver shift involuntarily into Logan's frame—oh how he loathed his own body for giving him away, showing his vulnerability and need that couldn't simply be written off as greed. It didn't matter, though... Logan would never speak a word of it, and so Reaver gave up on minding when his traitorous mouth let lose an utterance of pleasure.

Logan had both their cocks gripped tight in his hand, stroking them together with the sort of focus only a strategist possessed. Reaver wondered what plans Logan had in store for them this evening—he knew it would ultimately be good, though this was only a half pleasure. He wanted Logan to forego stroking his own cock and to give his full attention to Reaver's own. Selfish. Selfish and greedy. Labels he didn't mind.

Logan was marking him with his teeth, almost like an act of desperation to lay claim to anything he could in a kingdom that had once been his. The bruises would hide well beneath Reaver's usual ensemble, and there would be no chance of anyone seeing any unsightly marks upon his skin. Reaver tensed at each brush of lips over his abdomen, never quite sure when the next bite would come as Logan shifted downward and settled himself comfortably between Reaver's legs. He lifted his head to peer down a Logan when no further movement came, Logan's hand idly grasping his cock and his cheek resting against Reaver's thigh as their gaze met.

"Call me your king..." Logan requested, his voice grim and serious in spite of the laughable request.

Reaver scoffed, lips thinning into a pitying smile. "I have no king," he replied. "Not even your father ever bore such a title."

Logan frowned and it seemed he was pondering how he could have Reaver so exposed to him yet still be unable to control the man in any way. 

Rolling his eyes, Reaver sighed and spoke again. "Come now, cherub, don't make such faces—what is a king to a man such as I?" It irked him that Logan would spoil the fun by introducing words into their actions. 

"Even here, like this, am I of little importance to you?"

Reaver had to suppress a groan of irritation at Logan's question, moving to push himself up and bring himself closer to Logan. He wrapped his legs around Logan's shoulders, hands tangling into Logan's hair and instructing his mouth to repurpose itself to a better task. At the sensation of Logan's lips sliding over his length, he sighed with pleasure. Warm... so warm.... "I can think of no more important thing at the moment," Reaver admitted airily as Logan sucked at him, tongue gliding over his sensitive skin and occasionally dipping into the slit at the tip of his cock.

He could feel Logan's hands toying with his balls, pulling them just a little too far for comfort from his body then easing up slowly. After a time, he began to feel it in waves. It was a tingling of anticipation that buzzed through his body, quick and as annoying as a limb falling asleep, before it gave way to a low thrumming of ache and pleasure. Each tug was accompanied by Logan's mouth sucking at him harder, a sort of vengeance in his actions as though he meant to kill Reaver in this way. God, it felt good.

Reaver fell into a state of half lucidity, his brain flashing images to him of all the people who'd ever done this to him. Overstuffed corsets and painted lips, the thick scruff of a man too long at sea, endless lithe forms mixed in with cravings for muscle... god, there was even that one night with that dull scholar. That had been a bit of a let down. Reaver gave it no more thought, letting his mind drift back to heaving chests and meaty asses, memories of orgies and fuckings that went all night filling his head.

It was something of a surprise to him when Logan's fingers began to spread him, his fingers slick with lubrication he'd applied sometime during Reaver's daydreams. He jerked upright in response, a curse on his tongue for Logan's impertinence. How dare he? That was _not_ how things worked for them. Not for Reaver. He'd never allowed it, and he had no intention of things being any different than this time. 

"I think not, cherub," he warned, but there was something in the way Logan looked at him that was almost frightening... he could see his own reflection in Logan's eyes, yet even past that there was a sort of monster lurking beneath that was beyond being stopped. He'd never seen Logan look that way before. Not before or after Aurora, nor during any execution, and not even after he'd been removed from his throne. This was a first, and Reaver instinctively tried to reach for his pistol only to realize he had no weapon in this state.

Logan's hands found his hips, jerking them roughly and turning Reaver on the bed with ease. The strength in those sinewy hands was surprising, Reaver hissing and attempting to shove Logan off. He had never been good at any sort of hand-to-hand combat however, and it was all too easy for Logan to catch his wrists and pull his arms behind his back. He was trapped, chest pushing into the mattress below him and Logan keeping him pinned that way and looking down upon him. No one looked down upon him. No one that wanted to live, anyways.

"Fool! Stop this at once," Reaver demanded, trying to break free as he felt Logan shifting behind him. He felt the texture of silk slipping over his skin, brows knitting together in confusion at the sensation before he could process what it was Logan was doing. A loop around his left ankle, his right arm pulling back and then a silky band around his wrist to match it... then his right ankle, tied neatly to the left wrist just the same. Terror clutched at him as he realized he could no longer move, every tug of the arm or thrash of the leg only serving to pull the knots tighter around his joints. Slightly panicked, Reaver found himself laughing. "I'll kill you... I'll shoot your brains out," he said between laughs, almost unable to believe the situation he was in. Had Logan planned this all along? Of course... he was a strategist. Naturally he'd made sure Reaver's pistol would be far from the bed. 

"I welcome my death at your hands," Logan said, crouching over Reaver's frame and speaking into his ear. His lips lingered in Reaver's hair, kissing along the hairline and down his neck. Then another band of silk was before his eyes, blackening his vision as Logan secured it in a knot behind his head.

Reaver blinked frantically against the fabric, as though somehow his eyelashes might be enough to shift it out of his eyesight. Of course it wasn't. Growling, he opened his mouth to further admonish Logan. Did Logan even know who he was messing with? As though Logan had been waiting for such an opportunity, counting on another complaint to fall from Reaver's lips, he quickly jerked a silk cloth around Reaver's mouth, the ribbon fabric cutting at the edges of his lips as it was tied back and his tongue pressing against it angrily. It was slick, the fabric quickly soaking through with his spit. He hated it, yet he couldn't even speak to protest. That didn't stop him from trying, however, garbled curses directed at Logan flowing from his mouth. It was a poor idea, saliva dripping down his chin as a result.

Somewhere in the dark he could hear Logan laughing at him, but Logan did not hurt him. He could feel Logan's fingers pressing into the meat of his back and trailing down his spine, blunt fingers raking down his backside more than once until Reaver couldn't help but begin to relax. He turned his face into the mattress, suppressing to the best of his ability any noises he might make when Logan's finger moved further downward. Again they were there, slippery and gliding down the length of his ass. He felt Logan press a finger against the skin between his balls and asshole, the area more tender than he expected. The silk bindings tightened when he tried to escape that touch, and he was quick to loosen back up to keep the ribbons from biting into his skin.

Logan moved behind him, an arm curling around his waist and a hand gripping him to stroke him slowly. He noted in wonder that during all of this he'd managed to stay hard, the sensation of Logan's fist holding onto him not wasted on a single millimeter of his cock. Did he really want to be dominated in this way? No! He wanted more control, but his bindings kept him still and locked into the whims of Logan.

Was it with too much ease when Logan pushed a finger into him, burying it up to the knuckle without much resistance? Reaver's cheeks grew hot, eyes squeezing shut even when he already could not see. Logan and his impudence! Yet, as Logan's finger moved inside him, massaging away any discomfort there had been, Reaver found himself less interested in killing him for it. He ground his forehead down into the bedding, almost too receptive to an additional finger from Logan. How could he betray himself like this? Well... he had spent countless years double-crossing others. It was no wonder he could do the same to himself without any thought.

He found himself biting into the ribbon, teeth grinding down on it when Logan inserted another finger. _Just how many do you think can fit in there!?_ he found himself snarling internally, even as his treacherous hips tried to push back against Logan and he subsequently felt the bite of the ribbons around his wrists and ankles. Logan's hands were very busy, Reaver hating how each passing second made his anger give way to desire for more. The burn of curiosity had begun, and he knew that if this was not seen through tonight he would seek it out again later from someone else. And, if it was seen through... would he ask for it again?

From Logan, even? No. Logan? A fallen king? Was that really good enough for the likes of him? Reaver couldn't really think of anyone better though—the new king had already refused him once, and Reaver didn't care to relive the experience. Page, though... gods, what a woman. He could almost imagine her pegging him, the thought of it making his cock throb and ache. She would fuck him to death. Literally. The climax would end with them covered in blood, one dead and one alive. It was better he never asked.

So, no... Logan was it.

Ah well. It wasn't as though anyone would ever know. But... that wasn't true. He would know. And he'd never be able to get Logan's face out of his head if this ever happened again. Fine. So it would be Logan who did this for him. Reaver was bitterly ruminating on this to such a degree that he thought he might pass out when Logan curled his fingers inside him, pressing into a place Reaver had never even known existed and making him gasp for air and blink against his blindfold. 

The foulest words he could call to mind formed on his tongue, distorted and unintelligible through the gag between his teeth though Logan chuckled. He knew perfectly well what it was Reaver was trying to say.

When Logan slid his fingers out, Reaver could feel just how desperate his ass was for that space to be refilled. It felt like his insides were trying to furl and unfurl, his face blazing with heat as he thought how that might look to Logan. Logan's legs shifted, comfortably aligning themselves with Reaver's own. He bent forward, his frame enveloping Reaver's backside while his lips bit and bruised their way down Reaver's spine. 

"Hhh-khh." Reaver attempted Logan's name, trying to get the man's attention but failing to properly form any sort of recognizable word. With the gag in his mouth, he could not make the necessary "L" or "G" sounds nor finish a proper "N". "Hho-khuh!" he tried again, this time a little more insistent. Logan took notice, pausing and resting his cheek against Reaver's shoulder blade.

"What is it?" he asked, his fingers reaching around Reaver's torso to playfully pinch his nipples. It stung, though the burn of it easily became pleasurable with just a little patience. 

Reaver grunted, though it was unclear if it was in response to the toying with of his nipples or if it was another attempt at communication. Logan couldn't help but laugh again, a sound that Reaver was beginning to hate. Nobody was allowed to laugh at him. _Nobody_.

Logan at last hooked a finger into the ribbon band, tugging it from between Reaver's teeth and pulling it down his chin until it hung around his neck like some sort of odd collar.

Reaver took a moment to swipe his tongue around the circumference of his mouth, snapping his teeth together just to feel them meet without the gag hindering them. "Gods, Logan," Reaver said, relieved to hear the words come so clearly from his mouth. "If you're going to do this, can I at least have my arms and legs back? I can't even move comfortably!"

"Maybe I don't want you to be comfortable," Logan countered, his voice thrumming with amusement.

"Liar. You wouldn't be going to so much effort if you didn't."

Logan laughed softly, but Reaver could feel his fingers working at the knots in the ribbon to loosen Reaver's ties. "Damn... you really got these tight," Logan commented, struggling briefly to undo the knots thanks to the protesting Reaver had done earlier.

God, Reaver couldn't wait to get free. He was going to tear the blindfold off immediately. While he was now curious enough to see this through, he saw no reason for him to be put in such a humiliating state. He stretched out his legs appreciatively as Logan undid their bindings, glad to move them again. His hips and calves had been getting sore in that previous position. 

He had no chance to attempt to remove the blindfold, Logan immediately leading him by the ribbons around his wrists and pulling him towards the head of the bed. He nearly fell on his face as he tried to catch up to Logan's pulling and prevent the ribbons from getting any tighter around his wrists, grateful there was plenty of bedding to fall into should he have lost his balance. "Logan! What now!?" he demanded, feeling Logan work his arms loose so that they stretched before him and stopping him from trying to pull them near to his chest again. There was a rough yank before he felt the ribbons latch onto something, his arms now extended before him as far as they could possibly go without being torn from their sockets. He could feel the stretch of it all the way into his back.

"You didn't really think I would entirely free you, did you? Ha! That wouldn't be in my best interest," Logan said, his tone near mocking as he spoke to Reaver. "And don't you try to assuage my fears of what might happen if I did—I know you too well for that, _cherub_."

Reaver gave a derisive snort, unable to argue in his favor when Logan was correct. He was in no way to be trusted. "Fine... but I hate that I can't see you like this," Reaver grumbled as he tried to keep track of how Logan moved on the bed around him. At his shoulder... now his hip... behind him, once more.

"You don't need to see me," Logan replied simply. "You're lucky I'm allowing you to use your mouth again... but, no more words but for my name. I don't want to hear a single thing more from you except for your cries of satisfaction."

Reaver meant to argue that, but it was difficult to when he felt something wet and soft press into his ass and he immediately had to bite back a cry of pleasure. Logan's tongue... Logan's tongue in such in embarrassing place. How could he do this so easily? Did he feel no shame? No loss of pride for where he chose to put his mouth? Reaver's teeth were digging into his bottom lip, threatening to draw blood if he bit any harder. He couldn't help it. He didn't want to give Logan the satisfaction of hearing him moan for more.

But... he had to.

This wasn't enough. It felt amazing, but it simply wasn't enough.

Reaver pulled against his bindings, trying to grind back against Logan and insist on more. More what? A tongue was only so long.... He didn't know what he wanted, only that he wanted more. He couldn't stop himself from sighing unhappily when Logan's mouth quit its task, Logan once again reaching around him to toy with his cock. Logan didn't even bother to grip it correctly, cruelly pinching its head between his thumb and middle finger and twisting them around the sensitive lip of it, his forefinger pressing into the slit as though he might even attempt to enter him there of all places. Reaver hissed at the sensation, hips jerking minutely to try and relieve him from some of the sensitivity.

"If you could only see yourself right now..." Logan said, his voice vibrating through Reaver's backside as he spoke. "Oh, if only to have a painting of you like this.... bound and so very, _very_ receptive. You probably don't even realize how prominently you've been displaying your ass to me."

Reaver growled in response. A painting? Of this!? How dare Logan even suggest it!

"This pride of yours... I can't help but want to break it; you know that," Logan continued, his free hand now busying itself by running the length of Reaver's ass. Reaver could feel that Logan had reapplied some of the lubricant from earlier, the slick stuff providing a slightly warm and almost tingling sort of feel to the skin it touched. "Something about bringing you down this way... well, you know how it feels. You love it. Knocking down others, bringing them to their lowest low... it's a powerful feeling."

Reaver's thoughts were a mess, each one jittering around inside his head like a multitude of frenzied birds. Logan's disrespectful words were angering him, and the way he toyed with his cock was an irritant, but also there was the threat of Logan's length now pressing against his ass and Reaver could feel how eager he really was to allow its entrance. 

"I'm going to break you down to nothing tonight...." Logan whispered, Reaver jolting just barely when it really happened. Logan's fat and engorged cock was spreading him open and breaching him, its entrance slow and bringing with it a brief burn. Reaver felt like he had become something of a porcelain plaything that had begun to crack, Logan encouraging the spreading seams of separation throughout his body.

He found himself holding his breath, his teeth grinding together as Logan pushed into him. Time stopped making sense, the feeling unending even as Reaver could feel Logan's pelvis against the meat of his ass. When had it become so bony, and how had he failed to notice it until now? Reaver was unable to give it any more thought when he felt Logan slipping out of him, the sensation of it strangely pleasurable before Logan thrust back into him and he cursed in surprise. 

It was slow at first, every thrust deep as though Logan meant to ensure that Reaver felt every inch of him in motion. Reaver could never predict when Logan would choose to abruptly snap his hips against Reaver's backside, and every time he did Reaver found himself unable to formulate any words at all. Embarrassing utterances, little grunts and groans of pleasure... they were all falling too readily from his lips. In an effort to quell them and stop himself from begging for more, Reaver bit into the blankets and ground his teeth into the fabric.

Logan's hands gripped his hips, thumbs near pressing into his backside as he stabilized Reaver. Reaver hadn't even realized he had been sinking lower on the bed in an effort to press his pelvis into the mattress and stimulate himself. He only realized it when Logan stopped him and he was able to feel how desperate he was for his cock to be touched again.

The pace had quickened briefly, Logan panting behind him as he worked against Reaver. Reaver could feel Logan's chest, hot and sticky with sweat, against his backside when Logan slowed again and began deep strokes into Reaver. Before nearly every new stroke, Reaver thought Logan meant to pull out. Each time Reaver was pleased to find Logan only intended to reintroduce him to the full length of his engorged member. Fuck, he wanted more control.

Control how? The briefest image of himself straddling Logan, fingers and nails clawing into Logan's chest as he fucked himself silly atop Logan's cock, flashed through his mind. He whined at it, almost desperate for such a thing. Logan was really riding him now, but still he did not give Reaver's own cock the attention it craved. Reaver tried again to grind his pelvis down into the bedding, only for Logan to stop him once more. Logan was laughing between the breaths he was sucking in, mocking Reaver for trying to attend to himself. 

"How bad do you want it?" Logan growled, Reaver squirming back against him even as the ribbons around his wrists tightened in protest. "You're greedy... but are you greedy enough to beg?"

Reaver hissed, his mouth releasing the blankets he'd had furiously clamped between his teeth. "Fuck you, Logan," he snarled, gasping when Logan reached around him to grab his cock roughly. So close... he just needed a little more.

"Beg for it. Beg your king for it," Logan ordered, his calloused hand dragging slowly along the length of Reaver's cock. Reaver shuddered beneath Logan, the roughness of Logan's hand pulling on him almost uncomfortably when he moved it so slowly. "C'mon, Reav'...."

"I'll see you dead mys-" Reaver couldn't even finish the sentence, Logan squeezing his cock much too tightly and thrusting abruptly into him. The resulting noise he made was loud enough to echo around the room, a cry replaying itself back to him to remind him just how quickly he'd come to want this... to _need_ it. "F-fine!"

"Say it..."

Reaver's cheeks were burning, his mouth dry and his throat sore as he swallowed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so near to crying, and he couldn't think of a time when it had ever been under such a circumstance as this. "Please..." he worked out, pushing the words through his teeth even as his brain ordered him to keep his mouth shut. But... the word. It was like a password, a secret little code to give him at last the thing he wanted. Logan's hand began to pump him steadily, promising more if Reaver only continued to ask nicely.

Reaver did. He said that word over and over until it stopped making sense and it was just the noise he made to get what he wanted. It was working. Who cared what it meant when it would give him what he was desperate for? Saying it again and again, Reaver was on the verge of losing himself to Logan's ministrations. For a while it seemed that was all he had to do—just keep saying please until it was all said and done. One word? He could hardly call it a sin against himself if it was only the one word, right? His chest was beginning to feel tight, a knot growing in his stomach as Logan moved against him and around him.

He was nearly there when Logan suddenly ceased all movement, the abruptness of it making Reaver spit the word please as though it were a curse. 

"Call me your king," Logan insisted, Reaver cursing for real at his words. "Just once... only this once," Logan pleaded, his lips moving over the skin of Reaver's backside as he spoke.

Gods... he was so close. Would it be too much to just say it? Reaver's teeth dug into his bottom lip as he warred with himself. Was he really going to give into Logan's demands? Nobody told him what to do like this... not normally, anyways. But, he'd already done so much. He'd already given up on so many things today. What was one more.

This had to be finished. He feared what would happen if he refused. Logan could be cruel. The chance of him quitting right then and there and leaving Reaver to suffer... it was all too likely. He needed to see this to its end, and he needed that end to be now. "P-please... my king," Reaver uttered, nearly wincing at the words as he said them. It didn't matter though, the words like a key to unlock a treasure he couldn't wait to get his greedy little hands on.

Logan sighed some pleased little sound, his hand slowly resuming its task and his frame moving against Reaver's almost cautiously. Reaver noticed the unusual gentleness, a stark contrast to all of the biting and pinching of earlier. There was something worrying to it, even if Reaver couldn't help but enjoy it. It was unusual. It wasn't the frantic fucking of people desperate to get off. The worry Reaver felt began to compact itself into a knot in his chest. No... he hadn't felt this type of fucking in a long time. This was love fucking. 

Reaver blinked against the blindfold he wore, suddenly hyper-aware of how Logan had enveloped as much of his frame as possible and how he could feel Logan inside of him in a fit that was almost too natural. How Logan's hands, though calloused, were just the right amount of rough on his cock and how Logan's lips always knew where to kiss at just the right time. He found himself getting lost in all of it, drowning in the realization that this was, for Logan, so much more than it would ever be for Reaver. What a problem that could become....

"I'm going to cum inside you..." Logan whispered to Reaver, Reaver gasping a little and struggling to think of a reply. 

Feeling Logan begin to move a little quicker against him, Reaver stammered out a plea for him to wait. Wait? Wait for what? What was he supposed to say? No? Alright? No one had ever threatened to do such a thing to him before, and he'd never really thought he would need to prepare for such a scenario. He knew when it happened only by Logan's sudden stillness followed by a deep shudder, Logan's chest pressed to his backside and sticking to his skin from the sweat of his exertions. Reaver thought he heard Logan say something, but his thoughts were too quickly overcome by Logan's hand stroking him and encouraging him towards his own climax. He tensed beneath Logan, trying to keep his mouth shut and failing as he reached his end. 

It was almost bitter but, as good as it had all been, he knew there had needed to be an end at some point. Going on much longer would've spoiled the experience, dulling the unfamiliarity that made it interesting to begin with.

Reaver drug in a deep breath through his nose, his fingers and toes curling and uncurling as though he was slowly trying to regain control of his own body piece by piece. He felt Logan slipping from him, though Logan's arms remained tight around him in a sort of grounding hug. But, even this eventually ended and Logan's frame left him. There was a brief moment of panic when Reaver thought Logan meant to leave him tied here, abandoning him to whatever fate might occur if he did; perhaps he would be found in this embarrassing position, or perhaps he would die of starvation and _then_ be found just the same.... Logan must have been thinking similar thoughts, as he spoke while his fingers began undoing the knots of Reaver's bindings to free him.

"I almost want to keep you like this... then I could just keep coming back to you and doing it all over again," Logan mused. "Leave you blindfolded and bound... you'd be like my little pet, all prettily leashed up. I'd get you a collar, even."

Reaver bared his teeth at the suggestion. It wasn't like he'd never done the same to one of his own playthings, but to have someone talk of doing it to him? Unacceptable. He simply didn't have the energy to snarl out his thoughts on the matter, instead slumping forward on the bedding in exhaustion. He grimaced a bit, feeling where the covers were cold and stickily wet with his own cum. It was too much effort to care though. It was also too much effort to care when he felt Logan's own release escaping him, warm liquid leaving a trail down the curve where his rear and thighs met. He lazily attempted to remove the blindfold, but Logan's hand caught him and stopped him.

"No. Not yet," Logan said firmly, Reaver feeling a weight lift from the mattress as Logan got up and moved about the room. He could hear Logan opening drawers and slamming them shut again, Reaver making a face of confusion as it sounded like Logan was dressing. When Logan returned he brushed his lips over Reaver's and pulled him upright and into his arms. "Reaver... I love you... and I'm sorry," he mumbled, pressing something heavy and familiar into his hands as he spoke and then moving away again.

Reaver pushed aside the fabric around his eyes, Logan not stopping him this time, and blinked against the light as he recognized his own gun within his hands.

Logan had a pistol in his grip as well, his face empty of expression as he stood before Reaver. "I can't... I'm too much of a coward... you'll make it look good, right?"

~*~

Reaver didn't bother attending the funeral, but he couldn't help visiting what he considered Logan's "grave". While Logan's body had been nicely sealed away in a crypt, Reaver had no interest in dealing with the Hollow Men who so often plagued the graveyards. No. Instead he went to Logan's chambers. The young king had ordered Logan's room closed up, the door removed and a fresh wall blocking any entrance to the old king's quarters. A large portrait of Logan hung where the door had once been, and Reaver had spied the young king standing before it and conversing with it more than once.

The young king didn't know. He didn't know that, when he'd commissioned Reaver to seal off the room, Reaver had installed a secret entrance elsewhere. He didn't know that Reaver snuck in through it more than once, visiting it nearly every time he was summoned to the castle.

Laying on Logan's bed, Reaver thought about how many things the young king did not know. How many things the world did not know. They did not know Logan's death was not a suicide, but rather a murder. They did not know that Reaver had done it while bruised by Logan's teeth, wrists and ankles baring imprints of bindings. They did not know that Reaver had stood over Logan's dressed body while still naked himself. They did not know that Reaver had changed the bedding and cleaned the room, removing all evidence of himself and what had come prior. 

All they knew was that Logan was dead, a bullet to the temple the cause of death with a pistol gripped tightly in his own hand. A suicide, or so it seemed.

Reaver sighed. They were idiots. But, so was he. He was in love with a dead man, and he'd personally pulled the trigger.

Ah well. It was better this way. Love was a liability.


End file.
